


and the world was gone

by Nebbles



Series: Ferdinand Week 2021 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Epistolary, Gen, Loneliness, POV First Person, during the time-skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: Ferdinand's life as a wanderer, predating his return to the monastery, is a story he is reluctant to share.When reading the entries he has penned in a journal, it is not hard to figure out why.
Series: Ferdinand Week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2134809
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23
Collections: Ferdinand Week 2021





	and the world was gone

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had for months now, and to be able to share it for Ferdinand Week feels like an honor. I've never written something in this format before, but it was such a fun and interesting experiment, and I'm glad to have brought this tale to life.
> 
> For Day 4 of Ferdinand Week, Hair+Loneliness.

**30th of the Lone Moon, Year 1180**

I must admit this is a level of uncertainty unbeknownst to me. Alongside this, I am plagued by this constant fear that grips my heart. Up until this point in my life, my future has been planned out for me. I was to succeed my father and become Prime Minister, to hold my title with pride, and now it has been lost to the wind.

I still do not know why Edelgard has taken everything from me. While some of the other great noble families have pledged their loyalty to her, they did not even offer us a chance! The Aegir Family has held such a presence within Adrestia for years, and to think we are cast aside in such a manner… I do not know what to do. I am at a loss, but I cannot let this affect me. If Edelgard is to sully my family’s honor—Adrestia’s honor—I suppose my choice is clearer than ever.

I must help defend the monastery from her attack. While the rest of the soldiers are to do the same, I know that her eyes shall be on me. It is clear I am already a traitor in her eyes, and that Hubert supports this notion as well. If they are to single me out amongst the army we are to fight back with, then so be it. I will not let her chaos take Garreg Mach by storm, and I shall do the same when I return to Adrestia. The disarray Aegir must be in, and to think of what my father must be facing… a true noble does not abandon his station, his country, when it calls for him. That is not how I was raised.

Sleep has eluded me as well. It is far past the hour I should be awake, and yet I cannot rest my eyes for more than a few minutes. I have not written a log such as this before, but it is relaxing in a way. It helps me in sorting my thoughts, and perhaps it shall be the beginning of my marks in the history books. After all, were I to save the empire in its hour of need, surely some historian shall pen the name Ferdinand von Aegir in their notes of the war!

...That sounds rather selfish of me. I know there are greater things at stake, and to think of myself seems an insult to others. While I do wish to accomplish great things, I must see to our people first. A noble cannot be selfish and ignore them for their personal glory. I do not know what I will do, but… I cannot give up. Perhaps I should have spoken to fellow nobles for advice… surely they would sympathize that I feel lost. 

I must try and rest. The call to arms is tomorrow, and sunrise shall be here before I know it. I will write to you when I have the time once more, dear journal. It is pleasant to have an outlet for my thoughts so they do not consume me.

I do hope my next entry is less saddening to write.

**18th of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1181**

I do not believe I can stay in Aegir. 

To say that chaos has cloaked this land in black smoke would be an understatement. While there have not been deaths (so far, I fear to add), I am certain riots shall continue. The people are demanding to know how we could let this happen, why we did not dare to stop the emperor from stripping us of our pride. Father and I have attempted to give reason, yet each one has been swept up in the maelstrom that has our lands in a chokehold. Even if Edelgard has taken them away, she has not taken our nobility. I cannot abandon that now.

It is with a heavy heart that I have packed what I can, and taken the men I could. The supplies we have shall get us out of Adrestia. I admit, I do have hesitations in leaving Father behind, but were we to escape together, it may spell our deaths. To be truly alone is not a feeling I find comfort in, but what choice do I have? I cannot take back Aegir if I fall. He is to flee some time after me, perhaps even next moon if it shall ascertain his survival. I do not find the idea of sleeping in the woods appealing, but… until I can find shelter, what am I to do? 

We are to leave at dawn. Truthfully, I should be resting, preparing for a march that I am unsure of when it shall end. Yet again I find myself gripped by restlessness. My heart wishes to assure me that my return to Aegir will be with ease, and my gut argues otherwise. I do not know what to believe.

It feels foolish, looking back on my previous statement, to say I will be alone. I am taking trusted men with me. Yet… can I truly say they are friends? That they are close? Nobles do not fraternize… no, that is going against what I spoke of to Lorenz, is it not? That nobles should perhaps speak to those below their station with the same regards they would give to others? I could attempt to get to know them, if only to avoid this pang in my heart. While I could label this as myself being used to the friendships I have forged at the monastery, it feels different. I cannot explain this, and it worries me.

Were it not such a poor and dangerous idea, I would seek them out. I am acutely aware of their own duties in this war that have been thrust upon us so suddenly. My only hope is that they shall be well, be safe, and that I will see them in five years time. We did make a promise, after all, and I do intend on keeping it. 

...Perhaps the next thought I have had is not one to pen down. This is to be a journal of what I shall accomplish to aid others in their time of need. Anything less than optimism hardly has its place here.

I will return to Aegir. I will not lose faith, and I will bring back hope to its people.

**14th of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1181**

I have heard my father has gone missing.

It is only a rumor, but disquieting nonetheless. I cannot do anything about this, as I am hardly in one location for more than a moon’s time, and that is being rather generous. While I have made it out of the Empire, their conquest is proceeding at a rapid pace. Territories are falling to Imperial rule, swallowed up by flame. I know that I am being hunted, and thus, am still under the empire’s gaze. Quite honestly, I find it a miracle I have time to write. 

It hardly surprises me how Edelgard’s war is proceeding. She has always been intelligent and capable, and has been planning this for longer than I can even imagine. While I still hold concerns, I cannot let my fear grip me. I must continue to travel, even if I am unsure of my destination. My men have fared well so far, even if I wager then must miss home as well. We cannot let our emotions take hold, however, or it will endanger us. If we hesitate, we are lost in our thoughts… our decisions must be logical.

This is why, I suppose, I have not taken the time to search for my father. Were I to dispatch my men to do so, our force would be smaller. Logically, this would make our methods of escape easier. At the same time, smaller numbers mean that we are less defended against an ambush. The skirmishes we have faced at the border have been proof enough we need all the numbers we can, and I am sure Father escaped with his own soldiers who are just as capable. 

I would write further, but I have just been told we must move once more. Imperials soldiers will be here come morning. With only a few hours of rest ahead of me, I must take what I can.

I will keep my faith. Surely I will not be running forever.

**4th of the Guardian Moon, Year 1181**

While I am not entirely sure where we are, I believe it is a remote village within Alliance territory. We would have continued to travel, but the winter has gotten far too harsh. I fear that in staying here, we may be bringing them danger… but it would be terribly rude of me to reject their kindness. There is enough food to feed us, although I suspect my men are insisting I eat more. I cannot say why, as my eating habits have been fine of late. I am still taking my meals—the portions may be smaller to ensure my men are well fed, but that is no cause for concern! 

This village has been kind in caring for Sienna as well, which I appreciate with all my heart. I fear she is not used to so much travel, being far from the stables… she was not bred for battle of this caliber. It was not my intention to make her a war horse, yet I have thrust this role upon her unfairly. She seems to be adjusting well, but regardless, it does not absolve me of my guilt. 

I must confess that the hour is late once more. I know I should be resting. We cannot march if I am exhausted, and I am still to set an example. I know this. I _know_ this! Why does my mind insist on running amok? Why must it feed me terror when there is none? We have experienced hardly any bumps in the road, so I must stay calm. I must breathe, take in my surroundings, and know that we shall continue to be well. 

I am alright. I must be. Even if I feel restless, I shall admire the snow outside my window. It is rather beautiful to watch, and while I would prefer to do so with a cup of tea in hand, that is a privilege I cannot enjoy at this very moment.

**8th of the Harpstring Moon, Year 1182**

We have failed to save a village. 

I caught wind of the fact Imperial soldiers were coming to subjugate it under Edelgard’s rule, and I could not let that happen. We rushed there as fast as we could manage, and we fought to the best of our ability. I had attempted to stay hidden, which proved difficult… with how long my hair has gotten, I… I did not even notice it happening. It had never crossed my mind. It had shown from under the hood I wore. I suppose I cannot be surprised—it is a bright color. 

The villagers ordered us to flee. That if they held any chance of survival, to avoid bloodshed, it was to lead the soldiers away as we ran.

I have never felt such cowardice in my entire life as I agreed. I loathe that I did, no matter how logical a decision this happened to be. Had I listened to my heart, I would have stayed until the very end. Is a noble not supposed to protect the common folk? They are not my people, but I left them to be swallowed by the war… this is not my fault, and yet… what shall happen to them? What has my involvement done in shaping their fate? Is further destruction to follow in my wake? It is rather terrible to think of myself as a harbinger of destruction, but… I am being hunted, it seems. 

Am I surprised by this? Perhaps so, but I am trying not to dwell on this matter. I could not help these people, but perhaps the next village will be more fortunate. If we delve deeper into the Alliance, we are safer from the Empire. I do hate that I have to hide, however. I cannot take pride within who I am, and if I am not Ferdinand von Aegir, then… who am I?

**13th of the Verdant Rain Moon, Year 1182**

We have not resided in a village for some time.

It is not worth the risk. While we have not been tracked in a while, I do not wish to put others in danger. I am doing all I can to hide my face from others, but I can only assume there are other indicators. People must know the Aegir heir is missing, and seek to return me to the empire to resume the house arrest I was put under.

There still lies no word of my father.

The warmer weather lends itself to sleeping under the skies. In my continued habit of not finding rest, I have taken time to watch the stars. They are rather beautiful, a constant, a reminder that not all of the world has been lost to chaos. While I am not knowledgeable of the constellations, they offer me comfort nonetheless. It is said the north star leads one home, yes? Perhaps if I can locate it, I can follow. Perhaps I shall feel less… lost, pathetic as that is to admit. I can imagine my friends looking at the same sky, and remember that they still draw breath. I am not alone. I cannot be alone. 

It is odd that these pages offer me a sense of comfort. They are proof I am moving forward, despite the growing fear I hold. I do not like to admit weakness, but if it is not aloud, then my men do not know I am faltering, albeit slightly. But I am sure these feelings shall not grip my heart forever. After all, I am known for my boundless optimism, others have said. I have always seen that as a good trait to be able to see the bright side of things. 

For example: we may be unsure of where we are, but we are alive, and we are intelligent. We can learn the area and carve out safe locations to reside. Allies must lie in wait, whether they are present in Leicester, Faerghus or perhaps the monastery itself. Wherever they shall be, I know that they will be found. I have only been away from Aegir for a year’s time. It is not lost on us forever.

I will gain my sense of self once more. I will not be lost forever.

**22nd of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1182**

We have lost one of our men today.

Winter is unkind when you are unprepared. 

I did not think supplies were running short, that we had enough medicine. But tragedy tends to strike when you do not expect it, and I did not expect to bury him outside this unnamed village, swallowed by snow.

I did not even know his name. I could not recall it if I tried. It is an insult to his service, his sacrifice, what he has done in following me to this corner of Fodlan.

I cannot write home to his family. I cannot afford to. They will not know of the person they have lost today, and I am yet to blame. Were they to swear at me, to spit on my name for this, I would not blame them.

It is my fault. I should not have let someone slip through my fingers. I should have been protecting them in turn, and I have failed. A part of me feels shame that I did not cry, and yet all I could do was bury him in silence as an eulogy was delivered. 

It happened so _suddenly._ The illness claimed his body within three days’ time. Had I known anything of white magic, I would have done what I could to keep him alive. I know that it differs from medicine, but… could I not have at least carried pride that I did more than watch him die? Can I even call myself a leader?

I suppose it is fortunate, if you wish to label it so, that I could bury him. Were we on the road, we may not have had the time. The thought… The thought of it turns the dinner we were offered in my stomach. 

My appetite has been lesser as of late. I cannot say as to why. I ate what I could of this meal, but… half a bowl of stew, that has grown cold since I have begun to write, sits at my side. To reject their kindness would hardly be noble, and it is one of the few things I have left.

...How much longer can I keep telling myself that?

**12th of the Garland Moon, 1183**

I have caught a glimpse of my reflection in a river today, and was startled by what I saw.

I did not realize how long my hair had gotten. I did not even feel it tickle the back of my neck or stick to my clothes in the rain. Part of myself wonders if I should worry. Surely my observational skills have not weakened, as I have kept to the best of my ability in seeking out places of safety. 

My first instinct was to take the nearest dagger on my person, one I use to hunt game, and cut it. It would be unrefined and messy, but it would be gone. It would make me less noticeable. As I do nothing but hide these days, it would be the logical course of action. It would’ve been wise. Yet, I…

When I had taken my hair in hand, the dagger’s blade a mere inch away, I hesitated. 

And I believe it was a wise move that I did. Had I cut my hair, it would have remained on the road, in the river, carried by the wind. I am being hunted, and the soldiers hunting me know that color belongs to no other. I have already failed my men. I cannot continue to do it once more by bringing us trouble. Am I not wiser than that, to lead the hunter to its prey? 

Now that I have noticed this, I feel as though a beast is breathing down my neck. Even if I tie my hair back, it is all my mind focuses on. It feels like poison ivy, barbed and discomforting, imparting a sensation that I cannot rid of.

Unless I cut it. Which I cannot. There lies a chance that I would still carry this feeling. It is safer to tuck it under the hood of this worn shawl I continue to wear to hide myself from the world. I must look absolutely shameful, I… I cannot even take pride in who I am. My identity is nothing but a traitor’s. My beloved Adrestia would have me dead.

I am afraid of them finding me.

I am afraid of losing the little I have left.

I am afraid of myself. 

**15th of the Verdant Rain Moon, 1183**

I miss you, Lorenz.

**8th of the Wyvern Moon, 1183**

~~Inns are not~~ ~~I do not think inns~~ are a place to stay. 

...Forgive me, my wording was messy. 

We are welcome at inns no longer. With how deep we are into the Alliance, or so I thought, we were far from territories that sided with the empire. In my exhaustion, or perhaps a lapse of judgment, I spoke of my name. The innkeeper did not react.

Then so suddenly, while I was attempting rest, the phrase “ _Get the Aegir boy”_ rang in the dead of night. My men and I packed what we could, and we fled. Some of them insisted on making a diversion to throw off their path. It was a logical decision. I did not want others dying for me, their blood on my hands, but I had no choice but to agree. 

Emotions do not hold precedence in war.

Sienna then carried me far. Few could keep up such a pace. There are few of us left, and the numbers we have lost… they are my fault. I could not prevent their deaths. Was I not careful enough? Was there an error in my ways? Some men I could not even bury. I am dishonoring their service to House Aegir. 

The words on these pages are no more than a testament to my guilt. I do not wish to claim I am a failure to the nobility, but these are not my finest moments. I realize that my previous entries may contradict this, but can I truly allow myself to act this way? Nobles… leaders… this is not how we should act. Were anyone to read these pages, what would they think of me?

I do not know where we shall travel next. All I know is that I can no longer expect a warm bed. 

As long as I still live… I shall fight. I will see this war to its end. I must. 

**30th of the Great Tree Moon, Year 1184**

Birthdays are supposed to be a time of reflection. Growth. Mine falls on the first month of the new year, which is to bring similar feelings. I have not been able to… celebrate, to so speak. There is no time or reason. While I would not call this fortune, we have found a moment of rest, deep within woods I believe are near the monastery. 

One of my men—Hector, he told me his name was—offered to brush out my hair, and attempt to work out the knots that have long worked their way into it. He told me that since I had not cut it still, it had become a part of me. I saw no reason to reject his offer, and that he was right. I could not put off accepting it, considering how it has begun to run down my back.

It is odd to feel it untangled, somewhat clean as it rests over my shoulder. It is almost as if the war has not touched it, in a way. That sounds rather foolish, considering the only reason it is so long is due to where the war has placed me. Perhaps when I make it to the monastery, I can cut it there.

I hope I can arrive there soon. While the Millennium Festival is still some time away, I will be safe there. At least I believe I shall be. My men will have good food and rest, as well as a roof over their head. While there are reports that the monastery has fallen, become a den of thieves… surely they are nothing compared to what we have faced. 

I know it will be some time before the fighting has drawn to a close, but I am so very tired of it. I am tired of killing men who have surrendered in fear they will report my location to Imperial soldiers. While aware this is what war brings, can I still not hold a distaste for it? I have never been fond of violence. I shudder to think at the ones who are. This is not like the tales I have read of past heroes and lords, winning epics in the past. This is heinous. Reality is far crueler than I would have imagined.

I do not wish to bury any more of my men. That is all I ask. I do not want to spend an evening at a river’s side cleaning dirt out from underneath my fingernails. I do not wish to hold a limp body as I lower it into a poor man’s grave. Death waits for no one. I know this, but I also believe I have seen enough of it for one time.

I must believe it is not a weakness to admit this once more. 

Perhaps I will feel better in the morning.

**5th of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1184**

I am the lone survivor of a slaughter.

 ~~My men are gone~~ The rest of my men died for me today. Hector was the first to fall.

We did not expect a demonic beast to be prowling around the premises. It noticed us, and we attempted to flee. Even I can realize engaging would be a fool’s errand.

Its ~~monsterous~~ monstrous roars shook the trees surrounding us. Its claws tore through tree bark and dirt, through armor and flesh. I saw its scales ~~painted~~ dyed crimson as it tore through one of my men as if they were nothing. His death was instant, which one could call kind. One does not live long after bleeding out in such a fashion.

The next man died between the beast’s jaws. I heard the way his bones snapped, how they echoed throughout the forest. The beast’s fangs pierced his body as it hung limp before becoming its next meal. The next roar it gave flecked blood on the forest floor. On us. One cannot fight from so far a distance without bows and magic. We had no choice.

Another lay crushed by its feet. The cacophony of shattered bones followed. I cannot define the sound his body made after that. He had no time to scream, to cry out as his lance barely plunged into the beast’s scales. It snarled in response, and tossed his mangled corpse to the side. 

Before the last man took his breath, he ordered me to flee. That was there one survivor of this, it should be me. The Aegir boy. The one who has not had a home for almost four years. My life was worth his this. I was on Sienna’s back, lance in hand, heart within my throat. I could not flee. It would be a dishonor to their service. To myself.

His fate was to be torn apart like a ragdoll. His blood wet my lance as I cried out, driving my lance into the beast’s throat. It gave a dying howl, claws scraping through the dirt in agony as it fell silent. 

I was covered in blood that was not my own. The beast's maw smelled of rotting meat, of the blood of my men, and it is the only thing that pervades my senses still. 

I am not even on the battlefield. 

When the beast had died, its howls and shrieks coming to an end, Sienna took me as far as she could carry me. I am fortunate to have her. I would have died otherwise. Had I lost her... 

No. I cannot think of that. Not now, when I have lost everything else.

Had the world not gone black, perhaps I would have gotten further.

I woke up staring at a ceiling I do not recognize. I do not know where I am, only that it is far from the slaughter I had witnessed. My armor and clothes are not with me, nor are my weapons. Whatever clothes I am in, they are clean. I cannot even be put off that strangers dressed me. I suppose that is a small grace to have in all of this. 

A small meal was left by my bed as well, and I did attempt to eat it, as to not insult this family who had saved my life. I could not insult them further, as I had only been able to respond with silence. When they asked me if I wanted to eat, all I could do was nod my head. They did not know my identity, which is perhaps a blessing. To them, I am nothing but a wayward soul who has drifted far from home. 

I did not get a bite in before tasting nothing but the sour tinge of blood that is not my own, and getting sick into the nearest wastebasket. Since then, I have not tried to eat. Not even water or tea holds any appeal, as I fear I shall do nothing but lose anything I attempt to put in my stomach. The medicine they gave me did not last either. It all tastes like blood and dirt. 

I do not know what to do with myself. I cannot move like this, and recovery feels so far away. My body is at its lowest point, fearing nothing but illness. If I close my eyes, I see my men drowning in their own gore. I hear their screams, the clang of their weapons as it scraped off the beast’s scales. They are louder than the howls of the wind, the rush of rain that lies outside my window.

Gone. They are gone. I could not even bury their bodies if I had the time. What would there be to bury? Blackened bones and sinew? Broken armor and torn flesh? That is not a corpse. That is not even remotely close. They are scraps. Human refuse, all that bear my name and my inability to salvage human life. 

I have killed so many people.

**2nd of the Red Wolf Moon, Year 1184**

I managed to eat a full ration today without falling ill. I am glad for this.

It is something.

**4th of the Pegasus Moon, Year 1184**

I slept for the first time in three days.

It did not do much for me.

**13th of the Garland Moon, Year 1185**

It rained today. I used to enjoy its sound against the windowsill as I enjoyed a cup of tea.

I loathe how rain does not soothe me anymore. I feel ill, but sleep evades me. 

**20th of the Horsebow Moon, Year 1185**

I believe I am close to the monastery. I still must move slowly. I do not wish to be found, and my body hurts yet again.

I would take the medicine I have on me, but I do not wish to cough up the meager dinner I have managed. 

I do not expect to rest tonight.

**30th of the Ethereal Moon, Year 1185**

I have arrived.

There are no others present as of yet. That is fine. I can take this time to make myself look presentable. I cannot have the others look at me and offer pity. What I have gone through is irrelevant. 

I am alive. 

It is all I have.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a comment/kudos! If you want to hear about future works and rambles, make sure to follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/that_nebbles)


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